For Keeps
by Ellie-Ohhh
Summary: The Riddle House. It was an obvious place to look, so obvious no one would look there. But, thats exactly the place to hide a part of your soul, somewhere attached to you, but so obvious no one would think to look. It was genius. TR/OC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello all! So I know this whole 'the-golden-trio-finding-stuff-out-during-the-war- that-pertains-to-Voldie' plot is starting to become slightly over done, as I can see, but I can promise you that this isn't one you've read before. Chapter one, slightly shorter than how I usually do things but it just felt right leaving it the way it was. The next chapter is Riddle-induced, so tell me what you think about this so far! Ideas, comments, questions are always welcomed!

A/N: 8/13 Rebooted!

* * *

He leaned his head against the cool glass of the living room window, the cold seemed to sooth his headache, if only slightly. He watched the waves roll and break on the rocks below the cliffs, watched the wind rustle the trees and flowers softly – speaking of flowers, the ones planted on Dobby's grave seemed to be coming in rather nicely.

He heard Fleur's quite curses – he of course had no idea what she was actually saying, all he knew was that she was grumbling quietly in French – moving around pots and pans as she cooked dinner. Ron was naturally in the kitchen, attempting to help his sister in law, while sneaking pieces of food when her back was turned. Bill jus sat by the stove, a small smile placed on his lips at the exchange as he went through the secret letters sent from other Order members.

He looked over to where Hermione was sitting on the couch, re-reading books he was sure she had read a thousand times before. She was looking for clues or hints on how to identify Horcruxes, but so far had come up empty handed each time.

He couldn't help but sigh. It was more than a little abysmal at the thought.

They had been searching, and searching for them, not really finding much. Going over the most likely places that Voldemort would keep his horcruxes, or trying to, at least. It was hard, seeing as they didn't actually know what the horcruxes were, or even know the Dark Lord well enough to even venture a guess as to what they were. They seemed to be at a dead end, a standstill, and it couldn't have come at a worse time.

They had the ring Dumbledore had destroyed; had the diary destroyed by a basilisk fang; they had the locket destroyed by, Ron – who had left them in a fit of rage and anxiety, but had come back, just like he always would. Ron had been getting antsy when they were in the woods, hated just sitting around and hiding, wearing the locket only seemed to make it worse, so he left. He had redeemed himself though by coming back at the right time and saving Harry from the lake, grabbing Godric Gryffindor's sword and destroying the locket.

It had been gallant and so un-Ron – but, if Harry really thought about it, thought back to first year, maybe it hadn't been so un-Ron after all.

He was actually the one who had thought of the idea, realized a place they hadn't thought to look.

They had been staying at Shell Cottage since they had escaped the Malfoy Manner with Luna, Ollivander, Griphook, and Dean, it was where they were now. They had gotten the information they needed from Ollivander about the Elder Wand and the Hallows, he had proved to be much of a help, just the help they had needed to figure somethings out. But Griphook, he was proving to be more of a nuisance that anything. He was greedy, selfish, he wouldn't do anything without gaining something in return. The three of them were beginning to become increasingly frustrated and fed up with the troll. But, they needed him.

One night, the five of them had been eating dinner with Bill and Fleur – Ollivander and Griphook, who were still unable to walk properly stayed in the guest room while they ate – when it had just occurred to Ron, like someone had asked a question and he instantly knew the answer.

The Riddle House.

It was an obvious place to look, so obvious that no one would look there thinking Voldemort to be too smart for that. But, that was exactly the place to hide a part of your soul, somewhere attached to you, but so obvious everyone would never think twice.

It was genius.

They had already discussed what they were going to do with Griphook, they needed him to get into Gringotts – where they thought another Horcrux lay, Hufflepuff's Cup. The only downfall was that he wanted Godric Gryffindor's sword in exchange for his services. They knew they couldn't just jump into it, they couldn't just walk into Gringotts without him, they were fugitives now and didn't have that simple privilege. But, they had other things they needed to take care of first, mainly waiting for Griphook to "recuperate" and to check out the Riddle House.

He stood from his spot on the seat next to the living room window, Hermione looked up from her book at Harry's sudden stance, and it was then she knew. It was time, he was ready, or so it seemed anyway. She put her book down on the table in front of her and looked up into his eyes through her wayward curls, Harry looked tired and slightly defeated – she was sure she looked the same. They had already been through so much and yet, it wasn't even the beginning.

It made her tired at the mere thought.

Fleur had for called dinner a few moments later, but it hadn't broken the intense look between the two. Ron had come to retrieve them, he looked between Harry and Hermione, feeling the electric, brooding, intensity crackling around them. He let out a deep sigh. "It's time, isn't it."

Harry was the first to turn and look at him, his eyes not as confident as his body language, but he nodded. Hermione stood from her spot on the couch and smiled slightly at Harry, she came to walk past Ron, running a comforting hand down his arm as she went by him into the kitchen. Harry let out the breath he had been holding, eyes downcast, his shoulders just slightly shrugged, "Let's eat dinner."

And for the first time in his life, Ron was not very excited to hear those three words. He knew that once this dinner was over they would leave Shell Cottage, their pseudo-home for the past few weeks, they would leave his brother, their friends, the comfort that the house provided. They would be coming back, they had to for Griphook. But, there was just something about this trip that had him nervous, it had been his idea yes, yet now there was just something...off about it.

They ate dinner together in that brooding silence that everyone could feel, no one would comment on it though, for they all knew what was going to happen in the next few weeks, it was just time to accept it. Luna went on with her dinner and chatted airily with Dean and Bill about many strange things – for example, how the Mongolian Kappa once mated with a Kneazle and it turned into a very messy process on where it should live.

But, not even Luna's crazed talk about magical creatures could cheer the trio up, they weren't ready to leave – that much was painstakingly obvious – they had to go though, and everyone at the table knew it.

If dinner had been strained, the goodbyes were even more so. They stood in the doorway saying goodbye, Fleur wasn't ready to see them off, even though she knew they would be back soon. She had packed them some food and hugged each of them tightly, Bill had clapped them on the back and tried to smile, Luna and Dean waved from the kitchen window. It wasn't a goodbye per se, more of a _We'll see you soon_, but it still shook the rest of the house.

They stood gazing over the ocean on the grassy cliff of Shell Cottage, looking into the eyes of Ron and Hermione he knew they were ready, he just wasn't sure if he was. Harry apparated them to the cemetery, the same cemetery that Voldemort was resurrected in, the same one Cedric was killed in, it was an understatement to say he knew it well. It was a place that haunted his memories, a place that he had once promised to never return back to.

The cemetery itself resided in the town of Little Hangleton – a muggle village notable as the place Voldemort's maternal and paternal ancestors resided, the place where he was restored to a bodily form. With that image burned into his minds eye, they all held together, the smell of the oceans spray and earthy sent disappeared as they apperated quickly in the night.

He felt queezy from the force of apparating, still not use to it. He realized now that he was sweating, nervous to be back there, his breathing only mildly labored.

The ground was uneven, patchy green and full of graves. A church sat on a small hill above the cemetery, to the right there was an incline and sitting proudly upon it was the crippling mansion. Once a fine looking manor, easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, with its picture windows, stone walls, iron gates and ivy vines. The Riddle House was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied, some of its windows were boarded up, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face.

"We really have to walk all that way?" Ron whined, his breathing coming out in short pants from his unsteady landing. "Couldn't you have at least apparated us a little closer, Harry?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, her tone a little cross. "This was your brilliant, albeit unlikely, idea, Ronald. Now, stop complaining."

Ron mimicked her actions and rolled his eyes as well. "It's not like my idea was to walk all over this creepy cemetery, Mione. All I was saying was that it might've been helpful to have gotten us a tad closer."

Their bickering always comforted Harry, it proved that even with all this going on, there were still things that remained unchanged by war. He valued that.

They made the trek across the cemetery, attempting to avoid the broken headstones and sunken graves. It was getting dark and cold, and the eerie feeling of something being more than slightly off was becoming great. They made it to the stone walkway of the Manor, it was cracked and uneven, but it lead up to the door, decomposing flower beds on either side of the cement. The house was cold, dreary, and dirty, the wide double doors to the entrance were covered in mold and Harry felt if he pushed too hard they might collapse.

"So, where should we start?"

Harry looked to Ron – who was scurrying away from a spider – to Hermione, who looked to be in deep though but responded, "Well, we know these Horcruxes hold a piece of his soul, that he had a sentimental connection to some them."

Harry nodded, "But not all of them."

Hermione agreed, "No, not all of them. But, the ring Dumbledore gave us was from Voldemort's Mother's side. It had to have come from around here I suppose, but I'm not sure what to look for exactly."

Harry thought about it for a moment, "It's not like he was particularly close with his Father's side."

Ron looked defeated, "So, should we split up and cover more ground, or stay together so we can all decide on what could be a Horcrux?"

Hermione looked to Ron and Harry, "We should stay together, I don't trust this place."

They walked around the foyer, using a spell to remove dust from objects to get a better look at them. Nothing was particularly sticking out to any of them, just old antiques that had gone to waste.

A picture hung above the fireplace, it was family portrait of the Riddles. Harry didn't even have to assume, it was uncanny how much they resembled each other, it striked him how eerily charming they looked. Tom Riddle Sr. stood in the middle, he was...handsome and young, with dark hair and darker eyes, pallid flesh and a perfect smirk. Voldemort per-resurrection looked so uncommonly like his Father, the muggle he hated so, no wonder he had a great dislike for the man. Despite what the elder Tom Riddle had done to Voldemort and his Mother, he just looked like a pompous ass, with the smirk on his lips and the narrowing of his eyes, it vaguely reminded him of the Malfoys.

Just by glancing at that one picture Harry felt a sense of unease, he had never tried to sympathize or understand the man that Voldemort once was and was now. But, looking at that skewed family photo made him almost want to. It was easy for him to feel the anger and resentment toward the elegant young man in the middle, which meant that he was actually more in tuned with Voldemort's emotions than he had thought, it meant he cared more, and that scared him more than anything.

He quickly brought his eyes away from the photo and began to look around the space for anything that could've been sentimental to Tom Riddle, it was proving to be a rather difficult task. Everything he picked up seemed like the wrong thing, he knew there probably wasn't anything in this house that Voldemort loved, he had hated the man that was his Father, hated what that side of his family was, he wouldn't have found anything in the house where he Father grew up lovable.

He sighed, they were in for a long search.

They headed up stairs, realizing there was nothing in the downstairs living room, kitchen, or foyer. The house was grand, with a winding staircase and many vast rooms, it only made their job harder. Harry thought that if they had been in a house like this any other time, they might've appreciated it more.

They reached the third floor and split apart, it seemed safe enough now that they had checked the majority of the house and found no one lurking about. They each took a room on the floor to cover more ground. Harry walked into a room with his wand lit, it was a study of some kind, filled with books and a brandy cabinet, he picked up different objects, books, pens, trying to decide if any of these muggle items could hold a bit of Voldemort's soul. He knew that they wouldn't, he didn't feel the pull, not like he had with the other Horcruxes.

The search clearly hadn't been going well, he had though that maybe it had been a waste of a trip, that it might be time to pack it in when he heard Hermione's holler.

"Harry! Ron!"

They both ran to the open door, where the light from her wand was illuminating a part of the hallway, they expected to find a Death Eater or something equally as bad for them. Expected her to hold an obvious Horcux in her hands, making their job over and done with. But, neither of those things were what had made Hermione scream, nothing could've prepared them for what they saw.

The room was covered in blood, spatter and spray doused everything, it was all over and everywhere. That wasn't what Hermione had noticed first when she had entered the room though. She had noticed the bed, a huge canopy bed with mahogany frames and what would've been luxurious pearl white sheets. And on the bed was a girl, without a scratch on her. She looked illuminated almost, like she was softly glowing in the light coming from Hermione's wand.

When Hermione had finally gotten the door open with one of the most complex de-locking spells she knew, she had slowly walked fully into the room. She had noticed the girl and went over to where she laid on the bed, that was when she noticed the blood that coated the walls.

Dressers, bookcases, nicknacks, and mirrors lined the walls of the bedroom – because that's what it was, someones bedroom. It was painted a pale green, Hermione noticed that matched the girl's opened eyes, sending shivers down her spine. The dark hardwood floors were covered in undisturbed dust, just like the rest of the house. Clearly indicating that no one had entered the room in years – with the thick layer of dust and cob webs that were all over the room – yet, how was it possible for this girl to be laying there, looking like she had just laid down and never got back up?

She was dead, that much the three of them were certain of – no breath came in or out of her chest, no movement was shown in her doll-like eyes. But, she didn't look like she belonged in the room at all, she didn't look slaughtered or slain. She just looked like she had sat on the bed and died from a sudden heart attack, not like she had murdered so brutally like the rest of the room suggested.

Her skin was so pale, her honey colored hair lying in waves around her, also untouched by the dark, dried blood. Her eyes wide and unmoving, that same shade of pale green as the walls. She wore a thin off-white slip dress that barely covered her and that was drenched in dried blood spatter as well, a ring sat on her left ring finger – standing out so boldly against the red stained sheets she lay on, and the porcelain skin of her left hand.

Harry and Ron had joined Hermione in the room and were careful not to touch anything, they stared, wide eyed, for a few moments. Hermione still observing the scene around them, still trying to piece everything together. That was, before Ron decided that he couldn't help but state the obvious.

"It's a girl...she can't be any older than us..."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's the second chapter! It's basically all Riddle from here on out. From this chapter on, it will be set in Riddle-era all the way up until Trio-era. Let me know what you think! ideas, comments, questions, there all welcomed!

A/N: 8/13 Rebooted!

* * *

He sat in a compartment by himself, looking out the window at all the students saying tearful goodbyes to their families. It made him nauseated. Seeing all those people with wide smiles, hugging tightly and promising to write, the weakness they were spewing was horrifying. He rolled his eyes, who needed all that bullshit.

Certainly not him.

He pulled out a book as he felt the train start up, the hollers of parents and siblings became louder as the whistle blew and the scarlet engine lurched forward. He could hear the laughter and chatter of people walking up and down the hallway of the express, looking for a empty compartment or one with their friends already in it. Usually he wouldn't bother himself with Muggle things, he had no use for them, a want for them, or a need, but this book just seemed to call to him and he couldn't put it down.

Later he would come to blame the book as his reasoning for letting her into his life – although far fetched and ill placed – he believed the book was the reason he didn't notice her presence as quickly as he would've, as quickly as he _should_ have. She had slid open the compartment door and stuck her head inside, realizing he was in there alone and reading quietly, she slipped in and went to sit down across from him.

"You know, it's quite rude to intrude upon someone when they would like to be left alone."

He glanced up from his book to the person who decided disturb his solitude, a girl, his age he presumed with long honey colored hair that waved down around her face. She smiled apologetically at him as she sat down slowly.

"All the other compartments are full, and I'd rather not sit with a bunch of kids that I know are going to end up in Hufflepuff." She watched him glance her over, his eyes such an intense shade of blue, making them seem much darker. "I'm Alexandra Walkin, but you can call me, Lexi."

He studied her for another moment, her skin was impossibly pale – though still not as pale as his – her eyes a wide, ocean color that he couldn't quite place. She seemed to have an air of confidence about her, an aura of laughter, but he could see the smirk within the depths of her eyes. Now, that intrigued him.

"Tom Riddle." He furrowed his brows, "Why the hated of, Alexandra?"

She shrugged a shoulder, "My Mother wanted to name me Alessandra in an ode to herself, but my Father ixnayed that idea, so I became an Alexandra. They fight over it all the time, I just prefer Lexie." She talked about her name so flippantly, he supposed it was because people must ask about it all the time, but in his defense, her name was oddly normal in such a wrong way. "So, Tom Riddle, what house are you going to get in?"

He returned his gaze back to his book, though his attention stayed on her, "Slytherin."

She smiled a lovely smile, "Me too! Maybe we'll be friends."

He raised an eyebrow at her from where he was reading his book and quickly glanced her over, "I don't think so." He brought his eyes back down to his book, then he thought about what she had said. "What makes you assume you'll be in Slytherin? You don't really fit the criteria from what I've been told."

He watched her smile widen slightly, a small chuckle escape her lips. "So I've been told. My family's pureblood and been in Slytherin for as long as anyone can remember. They'd disown me if I was in any other house, so I have to be placed in that one." He nodded his head, eyes still trained on the text. She was a pureblood, from a prominent family of Slytherins, and seemed genuinely intriguing from the small conversation they had. He didn't see the harm in befriending her, she could prove useful later. "So, Riddle, that's an interesting last name, I don't think I've heard it before."

"You wouldn't have."

She took his clipped response as a sign that he didn't want to talk about it, she respected that, so she changed the subject.

"So, I guess your wand can tell a lot about you and about what your going to be good at. I dunno if thats true, its just something my brother told me once, probably to scare me. Mine's Willow and Veela hair, so it's slightly temperamental because of the volatile nature of the veela themselves. Isn't that interesting?"

He looked at her from over his book, both brows raised, a small smirk on his lips because of the exuberance in her voice, it made him want to chuckle. It was in fact quite interesting actually, he hadn't read of many wizards or witches with a Veela hair core, because it was true, they were very temperamental creatures.

"Yes, it is." He put a marker in his book and placed it beside him. "Did you know that willow is good for charms?"

She shook her head, "Actually I didn't, hmm." She took out her wand and pointed it at his book. "Wingaurdium Leviosa."

The book steadily rose in the air, about a foot before she gently dropped it back in its original place. He wouldn't tell her that he could do that without a wand, when he was much younger. But, it was slightly impressive that she could do magic at her age, but then again coming from a pureblood family, he almost expected it.

"Bravo."

She smiled bright, "Thank you. My brother's been teaching me since I got my wand, he's in fifth this year, Gregory Walkin. So, what's your wand?"

He pulled his wand out of the inside pocket of his school jacket, it was a slender white wand, with a thick handle. "Yew and Phoenix feather."

"Phoenix feather, that's very powerful."

He nodded, "Yes. Yes it is."

They held one another's gaze for a few moments silently. Her wide, pale eyes held a darkness he didn't think she possessed. His slightly narrowed, dark blue eyes held many secrets, just dying to be known. She should've known then. Looking back on this moment she would realize one of the most important things that had happened in her short life; she became his.

A Prefect knocked on their compartment door, breaking their stare as he opened the door slightly. "We're approaching the grounds, if you haven't already changed into your uniforms, now would be the time."

Lexi nodded toward the boy and then smiled, "Hello, William."

He smiled back at her, "Hello, Lexi. I'll see you at the sorting." He chuckled. "I'm sure Greg can't wait for that."

She rolled her eyes and waved as he closed the door and went to knocked on a different compartment.

That was the first time he felt it, the strange feeling in the hollow of his chest that he would later identify as jealously. He didn't like how the older William looked at her, how his smile reached his eyes fully, how comfortable she seemed around him.

She stood and pulled her uniform out of the bag that sat beside her, it was the first time he had assessed her appearance. She stood tall for a girl their age, wearing an emerald sundress that complimented her eyes. He watched as she turned her back to him, taking her pleated skirt and stepping into it, pulling it up to her hips under her dress. She pulled the dress over her head and his eyes trailed over the pale flesh of her shoulders and back, she quickly pulled on her white oxford and buttoned it up.

She sat down and put on what looked like a vest that would go under a man's tuxedo, buttoned it, and then looked up to find him staring at her with his brow quirked.

"What?"

He shook his head, "Nothing at all. You're just an interesting creature."

A lovely smile broke out on her lips as they felt the train come to a halt, Tom stood after grabbing his book and waited as she gathered her things into her bag and came to stand beside him. He slid the compartment door open and they joined the crowd of students making their way to the doors of the express, they were pushed and shoved in different directions by over eager students, all attempting to exit at the same time.

Lexi somehow got ahead of Tom and stood on the platform with the other first years, the half giant who liked to be called by his surname, Hagrid, stood beside her and was excitedly telling her about all the magical creatures he had caught. Tom made his way over to where she stood, scoping out the other first years they would be attending classes with and scoffed. He had big plans in store and seeing the mindless drones that waited for the carriages, he knew it would only be too easy.

"All first years on the boats! Four to a boat and that's all!"

They were ushered onto a boat, Hagrid got on first, Lexi and Tom followed. They sat on boat quietly, well for the most part, as it brought them across the lake and to the castle. Hagrid kept rambling on and on to them, Lexi biting her lip to keep from laughing at the half giant's exuberance as Tom observed the grounds around them.

The boats banked on the shore, a Prefect there to help them out and usher them to the main door where a teacher stood waiting for them. He stood tall in periwinkle robes, with a grey-white beard and hair, his hands clasped in front of him, a knowing smile one his face.

"Hello and welcome to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm professor Dumbledore. When we walk through these doors we will enter the Great Hall, this is where you will eat your meals with your classmates, but first it's where you will be sorted into your houses. There are four houses, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin." He smiled down at all the first years, winking, "Now would be the time for us to make our entrance."

The double doors opened in front of them revealing a wide hall with four long tables filled with students, the ceiling was enchanted to reflect the outside. It was a dark velvet blue with bright stars, candles floating above in the sky. A long table stood on a riser where the teachers sat, a stool was placed in front of the podium and a old hat was placed upon it. Dumbledore stood on the riser and pulled out a list, picking up the hat he called the first name.

"Abbot, Charles."

A small boy with reddish hair scurried up and sat on the stool, Dumbledore placed the hat on his head and waited before it shouted, "Hufflepuff!"

It went on like that, four Gryffindors, six Ravenclaws, and three Hufflepuffs later Tom was called. "Riddle, Thomas."

He calmly walked up to the stool and sat upon it, the hat barely grazed the air above his hair before shouting out, "Slytherin!" The Slytherin table erupted in applause, as it did every time a student was placed in the house. Tom's eyes met Dumbledore's for the first time since he had come to the orphanage, it was then he knew. Dumbledore didn't trust him, and he never would.

Lexi watched as he stood from the stool and made his way down to the Slytherin table, she caught his gaze and smiled, he smiled back, his eyes slightly narrowed. She had been so involved in watching Tom that she almost made Dumbledore say her name twice.

"Walkin, Alexandra."

She was one of the last first years to be sorted, she sat upon the stool, biting her bottom lip and closed her eyes as the hat was placed on her head. "Slytherin!" The table broke out into applause, slightly louder than the other times because of her brother and his friends she was sure. Smiling wide, she hopped off the stool and made her way over to the table, she sat across from Tom.

"I won't be able to get ride of you now, will I?"

She chuckled, a lovely smile on her lips, "Not a chance."

* * *

He sat at the Slytherin table, a plate of food in front of him laid untouched as he wrote in his book. Wilcox and Malfoy sat beside him, eating their food and talking about what they were going to do over the weekend. The weather had finally turned nice, it had been snowing for longer than expected and today seemed to be the first day it wasn't freezing, the sun was out and it was a short sleeve kind of day. How the weather was didn't affect him, he had more important things to worry about, other things on his mind.

He had discovered something rather amazing when reading a book from the restricted section, his quest for immortality seemed to finally be starting somewhere. A horcrux, that was his key, he was writing frantically about the things he had found out, the things he would do, how much more he needed to know.

"There you are, I've been looking for you."

He didn't even have to look up, or stop writing. "I told you I was spending my free period in the Great Hall, you just don't listen."

She rolled her eyes as she sat down across from him, "I do listen, it's just that I usually have to pull you out of the Library, sorry that I forgot that you were breaking habit today." She looked at his untouched plate of food and grabbed a chip from his plate. "You should eat something, you're looking a bit peaky."

He gave her a look and returned to writing, "Why thank you, Mother."

"It's lovely out, sure you don't want to go outside?"

She purposely ignored his dig, she knew it irked him and she knew him well enough to know he didn't mean anything by it. He was cynical, sarcastic, and manipulative, yes she saw all these traits in him even though no one else did, but that was because he didn't show them to anyone else. To everyone else he was charismatically charming, getting anything he wanted from anyone, getting away with everything. She had seen his true nature on that first day, sitting with him in the compartment. He was more honest that day then he had ever been in the time she had known him, and although she had only known him for five years, she felt as though she had known him forever.

"You know I don't enjoy the sun."

"Oh," She put a hand to her heart in a mock apology, "I am so sorry, I forgot all about how you like to keep your pallid complexion." He fixed her with a vicious stare, one that would usually cause student to submit in fear, but it only made her smirk turn to a smile. "Please, far be it from me to cause you skin to tan. At all."

He quirked a brow before returning to writing in his book, "Run along Lexi, go enjoy your time outside, we have Prefect duties to deal with later anyhow." He waved his hand in the direction of the Great Hall doors, not looking up at her. "And, if I'm not mistaken, here come your tag-a-longs now."

Lexi bit her lip and tried not to roll her eyes, she could in fact hear the girls as they giggled while walking into the Great Hall. Amber and Allison Avery were exactly what Tom had called them, tag-a-longs, anywhere Lexi went they seemed to follow. It didn't actually make sense to Lexi herself, sure Amber and Allison were her friends but they weren't uncommonly close, not like she was with Tom. So, she never understood why they followed her around so, doing everything she did, taking most of the same classes as her, things like that.

But, it had occurred to her one day why, they wanted Tom. Just like every other female at Hogwarts did, except they were actually doing something about it. They didn't throw themselves at him like some girls, they weren't too nervous to talk to him like others, they wanted to be like her because she was the only girl who Tom Riddle actually gave his time and attention too.

Once she figured it out, she realized just how shallow Amber and Allison actually were, she was surprised she hadn't noticed it before. Now she knew, so wherever she was, she knew they were soon to follow. She had tried to tell Tom once, tried to tell him the reasoning of why they followed her so, because for the life of him, he couldn't figure it out either. But, he refused to acknowledge 'things of that nature' as he liked to put it. She rolled her eyes, he acted as though he wasn't a fifteen year old boy, as if he didn't think about the female gender.

In all honesty though, it was fine with her, she didn't think she could handle Thomas going out with a girl, and that's what seemed to be bothering her most as of late.

"Ugh, oh God." She sighed, "Here we go."

"Try not to have too much fun, will you."

Lexi mock laughed at him, standing from the Slytherin table as the girls came closer to approaching, and reached a hand up to ruffle Tom's smooth, kempt, hair. His hand shot up and grabbed her thin wrist just as she pulled away from him, his eyes narrowed into slits, his strong jaw clenched. She smiled at him with her lush lips and gently pulled her arm from his grasp, his fingers letting go easily. He was asserting his dominance over her, it had happened many times since she met him, she just went along with it now, its not like he had ever really hurt her. Tom had so much power under his fingertips, but he was the master at controlling his emotions and strength, which was why he never actually hurt her, she had never done anything for him to need to.

She pushed away from the table, walking over slowly to join the Avery girls where they stood waiting for her. She threw a look at him from over her shoulder before she walked away with others, her long honey colored hair hanging around her in unkempt waves, her wide eyes smirking at him, a small smile on her lips. He hadn't even realized he was holding his quill so heavily until he heard it snap, but by that time she had already left the Great Hall, his eyes never leaving her form until she was completely gone, and ever after he could still feel her presence lingering.

God, what was wrong with him.

The pale length of her legs, the smooth column of her neck, the way she looked up at him through her lashes. Ever since he met her she had been a distraction, taking up his time and concentration, occupying his thought and as of late, his dreams. She had begun to...develop over the years, as did the girls around them, yet he had never found anything interesting in them, never saw anything worthwhile. With Lexi, things were different. Things were always different when it came to her. He had many followers, subjects some would call them, but he didn't have many..._friends_.

He honestly didn't see the use for them, like girlfriends or partners, they took up time and energy, devotion he did not have. He had one mission this year, looking over to the Ravenclaw table he saw her sitting alone, reading as usual. Myrtle.

"Damn. They don't build 'em like that anymore, I'd love to slither under that skirt if you catch my drift."

Tom snapped his head to the left, Malfoy and Wilcox sat with their heads looking at the Great Hall doors, eyes firmly planted in Lexi's backside. He didn't even realize his wand was at Malfoy's throat until he heard the nervous sputtering of Wilcox, "Riddle, hey, he ah, he didn't mean it. We were just dickin' around, you know?"

The look in his eyes must've been one of the purist hatred, of the coldest ice, because he had never seen Malfoy pale so much. The boy was unusually pale to begin with, it almost seemed as if he had no more blood to drip, but Tom knew better than that, everyone had blood that needed to be spilt and Malfoy was no exception.

"Y-yeah, Riddle, I for-forgot that she was off-limits, that she was yours."

He felt his eyes narrow slightly, yes, Lexi was his in every capacity, he hoped she knew that. He pulled his wand away from Abraxas' throat when he felt eyes burning into him, he didn't need to look up at the teacher's table to know who it was. He could feel Dumbledore's gaze and know it anywhere. So, he gently put his wand back into his pocket and began to pack the parchment and quills back into his satchel, ignoring the apologetic rambling of Malfoy and the heat from Dumbledore's gaze.

"Just remember who you follow Malfoy, your Lord doesn't take kindly to those who _try_ and take what is his. The same goes for you as well Wilcox, and the rest of them."

They both nodded and watched as he strutted out of the Great Hall and down into the dungeons where the Slytherin Common room was kept, they knew that Tom had meant what he said, and that they were both very lucky Dumbledore had decided to have kept a particularly close eye on Riddle today. Malfoy looked at Wilcox and then to Roth, his jaw set, his eyes downcast, it was then they all knew. No one would or could touch, look, taste, or even think about Lexi Walkin as long as Thomas Riddle was alive, and even after that he doubted anyone would be able to get to her, she was his. Forever.


End file.
